~ wonderings – the essence of life and prayer

Monthly Archives: May 2020

Today is the festival of Pentecost, the day we remember the work of the Spirit in our lives. From the moment Jesus’ followers felt the spirit moving among them, blowing like a mighty wind and setting their hearts ablaze, they were unstoppable. The fear that had filled their hearts was no longer central. They not only stood up to be counted but shared the story of Jesus’ life and ministry with a passion that inspires people now some 2000 years later.

Listen closely to what the writer of the book of Acts says, “They were all filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in different languages as the Spirit gave them power to proclaim his message.”*

You see the text doesn’t exactly say which other languages they spoke, but it goes on to say.

“Now there were staying in Jerusalem Jews of deep faith from every nation of the world. When they heard this sound a crowd quickly collected and were completely bewildered because each one of them heard these men speaking in his own language. They were absolutely amazed and said in their astonishment, “Listen, surely all these speakers are Galileans? Then how does it happen that every single one of us can hear the particular language he has known from a child?”**

So maybe they each actually heard their native tongue. It may be that suddenly all those young men who had grown up in the region of Galilee speaking Aramaic suddenly became conversant in a variety of very different languages from the Mediterranean, Asia, and Africa. Or maybe what the bystanders heard was simply the language of the heart.

Remember also Paul’s words to the people of Corinth: All kinds of things are handed out by the Spirit, and to all kinds of people! The variety is wonderful [and as we heard they include speaking in] tongues and the interpretation of tongues. All these gifts have a common origin but are handed out one by one by the one Spirit of God.***

As I think about it, I imagine the people in Jerusalem who heard the Spirit-filled disciples were simply moved by the disciples’ fervor and devotion. I want to tell you, my friends, that we are much in need of the two gifts named in this passage today, the speaking of and interpretation of tongues. We need people who can speak the truth clearly and plainly in a language that others can understand, and we need people who can interpret the language of hearts that are so broken they are often misunderstood.

This week the country has been rocked by more evidence of the pervasiveness of racism. The encounter in Manhattan’s Central Park was prelude to what came later. Two people were out enjoying a day in the park. The man had come to pursue a favorite activity, birdwatching. The woman was walking as her dog wandered freely nearby.

Signs in that area of the park clearly state that dogs must be leashed. So, the man concerned about protected flora and fauna asked the woman to comply with the leash law, and it went downhill from there. She called the cops, and to give teeth to her claim for assistance, she emphasized her observation that the man was African American and said she was being threatened by him. Now I don’t know what was in her heart, but I do know as do we all that too often encounters between the police and black men do not end well. Often black men, boys, and, yes, women have been killed in encounters with police.

As if to emphasize that concern, while the country was still deep in discussion of the incident in the park, George Floyd was killed later in the week in Minneapolis. A $20 bill he gave the clerk was apparently counterfeit and complying with Minnesota law she called the police. When they arrived, the police treated Mr. Floyd roughly. Handcuffed and on the ground he begged for air, for water, for his mother, for life itself and died as police held him down with a knee on his throat for long minutes as bystanders who were recording the incident pled for mercy for the dying man.

Understandably, black people across the country are in agony at yet another senseless death of one in their community. Centuries of abuse, ancestors in chains, mistreatment and second-class citizenship are not just in the past, they continue to be and feel all too real today. There is a reason one of the most basic lessons black mothers and fathers teach their children is how to respond to an encounter with police and other white people who see themselves and privileged, entitled, and empowered. And – still – they – die.

No doubt you’ve heard the reports of protests and vigils by black citizens and their allies in Minneapolis and other cities and towns across the country. The daytime and nightly events that keep us focused on the unjust treatment of black Americans have now resulted in curfews as violence ensued. Some have been quick to quote Martin Luther King, Jr, who said, “A riot is the language of the unheard.” But the story of the violence we have seen is complex. Yes, some is at the hands of those who have not been heard when their silent peaceful actions and statements have been made. Anger seeks expression and white America has turned away, averting eyes and silencing those who spoke out. It is troubling to hear of the destruction of businesses and property, of cities in flames. Especially so knowing that many assume that all the damage is being caused by the protestors. But that is not the case. What started out as peaceful protests turned to chaos when white men, yes, white men, opportunists with an agenda, were the first to start breaking glass and setting fires, hoping to incite violence.

Friends, we must not be fooled. We must listen well and carefully to a variety of sources, to trusted witnesses to these events. And we must have the courage to speak out on behalf of those who have been denied access to the best jobs and education, denied entry into neighborhoods, denied basic services, health care and access to healthy food in their communities, denied even the recognition of their humanity.

All this comes in the midst of an already divided country challenged by indecision and conflicting leadership in a time of pandemic.

We pray for peaceful resolution, for wise and courageous leaders of the communities in crisis. And there is more to be done. It is up to each of us to speak out… for silence is complicity. Speak out for justice and restraint by law enforcement and we must also take time to reflect on our part in and our reactions to the problem of racism.

Those of us who are white must be willing to observe how we have benefitted from a system devised to give every advantage to those of European ancestry, especially the wealthy and educated few who established it. We must be willing to listen to how we respond in words. When we hear the chant Black Lives Matter, we must resist the impulse to respond as some have, All Lives Matter. Yes, it’s true, they do. But in this time, it is black lives that are most at risk. So yes, Black Lives Matter. We must also consider how our body language and our deep instincts often betray the way we have been conditioned to think of blacks and other people of color as different and perhaps something to be feared. You see, this Pentecost we do need the gift of tongues and the interpretation of tongues, languages, and culture.

So, the next time you are in the grocery store or in the parking lot or on a street downtown, or in a place of business, when you encounter a person of another race try to notice how your body and thoughts respond. Does it seem natural? Are you surprised and caught off guard? Do you move away? Do you instinctively guard your belongings? Is your smile genuine or strained? By noticing our responses, we begin to see how we might learn the language of the other. Are we responding to the person or to our lack of understanding of their culture?

Friends, as we pray for our country, pray for the Spirit to move in our hearts and across this land. Let us also pray for the wisdom and the courage to be led into a future that considers and values the humanity of each and every one. Let us resolve to listen deeply to those we know well and to those whose culture and experience is very different from our own, for we are all God’s children.

One of the Sundays during the season of Easter each year is set aside to think of Jesus as the Good Shepherd. Many churches celebrated last week, but we rearranged the schedule a bit to celebrate Earth Day in April. So today, I would like us to think about Jesus as shepherd and I want to remember those he refers to as his sheep.

News from Georgia this week brought to light the February 23 shooting of Ahmaud Arbery and the subsequent mishandling of the case by law enforcement and court officials. This was only one example of the many ways blacks and other people of color are treated differently than white Americans. The evidence is all around us, and in this time of the coronavirus it is especially noticeable as it is often the marginalized who work essential jobs, long hours, with little pay, and often no protection. So it is also that a disproportionate number of the ill and dying are blacks, Hispanics, and immigrants.

A seminary friend of mine deals every day with trials such as these, the trials of being black in America. Louis is one of the kindest most caring souls I have met. He gives of himself in so many ways. If you tuned in to the most recent UCC General Synod you would have found hhe was one of the people leading worship. He serves as resource for LGBT folks and especially the trans community holding a special place in his heart for the trans women of color who are now and always so at risk that their life expectancy is 35. Ten have been murdered this year just for being who they are. Louis is an advocate who is in tune with the feelings and fears that come from walking in black skin and with all the very real attendant discrimination and struggles of those with whom he identifies.

This week Louis issued the following challenge: “Ask yourself how you would move in freedom, faith, joy, creativity when you are afraid of the cops, the robbers, the church, the government, some folks in your own family….sit with it for a few minutes. and then join me in celebrating those of us who get up, come out or connect from a non-disclosed position, stretch to serve and support each other, stand in the trenches while carrying the terrifying reality that every day is a chase to the finish line and every town is a sun-down town.” *

Some of us may not instinctively understand that last reference. But if you think about it with some of the movies you’ve seen in mind. You may remember how many times black folks have heard words cautioning them not to be caught outside after sundown. Think of it and then imagine choosing life, choosing hope in such circumstances. Every day working toward the beloved community, working to make our communities safe for those who are marginalized because of what color skin they inhabit, of who they are and who they love. Every day reading in the news some reason for concern, some reason they might need to be looking over their shoulder worried about their safety and yet choosing to go on. Could you do it? Are you willing to speak out for those who must? Can you think of some way to engage on their behalf?

I know that much of the work of feeding the hungry and the homeless continues to go on in Downtown Allentown, and many of the clients of those programs are blacks and other people of color. Some of our UCC partners there are continuing their longtime projects, modified for safe practices. Some are stepping into the breach supplying essentials like the diapers not covered by food stamps for families who are now are having trouble making ends meet. The need is great in these times and some of you are already involved. I have been wondering what we as a church community might do when our usual mission practices are on hold. How might we explore further how to engage now and in the future the work of mission and justice as this crisis has peeled back the layers meant to conceal systems that privilege some and dismiss others.

When Jesus talked about being the Good Shepherd, he did not refer to just a favored few pets. No, Jesus talked about and cared about all the sheep, the black ones, the mottled ones, the brown ones, the white ones, the ones who are covered with thorns and brambles, the ones who have strayed far from the fold, the ones who have been walking through the mud and grime. He loves them all. He leads them to safety and tends their wounds. And so should we all. May it be so.

Abide with me: fast falls the eventide;the darkness deepens; Lord, with me abide.When other helpers fail and comforts flee,Help of the helpless, O abide with me.

Swift to its close ebbs out life’s little day;earth’s joys grow dim, its glories pass away.Change and decay in all around I see.O thou who changest not, abide with me.

I need thy presence every passing hour.What but thy grace can foil the tempter’s power?Who like thyself my guide and strength can be?Through cloud and sunshine, O abide with me.

I had never considered the hymn we just sang to be a part of the Easter story. But this year as we have observed before, the entire story sounds different in light of our current situation, of being confined to quarters. As we spend long hours, days, and weeks indoors for fear of contracting the virus, we begin to hear the story of Jesus followers with renewed attention. The idea of taking great care about our surroundings no longer seems strange.

We think today about a familiar story of Jesus traveling on the road to Emmaus, and encountering two of his followers who did not at first recognize him. Their preoccupation with the events surrounding Jesus death and early stories of resurrection conjure up for us thoughts of recounting our own experiences in a time of upheaval.

Like those who at the end of an unbelievable week of trauma and surprise returned at the end of the Sabbath to their home in Emmaus, we find ourselves revisiting the stories we have experienced and heard in our time. We retell the tragic and heartrending stories, the brave and inspiring stories, the encouraging and affirming stories, the mundane and routine turned upside down stories. We try to make sense of what has been happening in our lives and what is yet to come.

Natalie Sims, who grew up in the Methodist church and lives in Sydney Australia. She has a love for music for the church and began in 2008 to blog** about the choices of hymns she recommended to her small church. From that small beginning she has become a primary resource for pastors and lay leaders of churches around the world, though her efforts are entirely voluntary. Her passion for the many genera of music used in worship has grown to include: traditional hymns, praise music, African American Gospel, medieval and modern chants, and music of other countries and cultures. She says, “Congregationally, I like songs that are beautiful, that are intelligent, and that are inclusive. I believe a song doesn’t have to be new to fit these criteria.” You would be right if you guessed that I refer to her website on a regular basis.

When I looked at her suggestions for this text and saw her idea of considering the old favorite Abide with Me with this story it stopped me in my tracks. I thought, “Really?” and then I thought…”Of course!”

Like the travelers on the road to Emmaus, we want, we need, Jesus to abide with us. We need the comfort Jesus provides on our journey through this time of uncertainty. This is precisely why we Christians tell our stories, why we retell this particular story, and all of those told by the disciples in the days following the resurrection, and the ones we tell now in the 21st century experience of a worldwide pandemic.

It is said that people who experience trauma need to retell their story forty times in their attempts to make meaning before they can find healing. Perhaps you remember that the number forty shows up repeatedly in the biblical account. That number 40, often used in scripture to symbolize completion, is just as important now as in times long past.

Like the followers on the road to Emmaus we benefit from telling our stories. In telling and retelling them, we will begin to recognize how Jesus shows up now. We will notice how he is present with us in these days of isolation to comfort and sustain. We tell the stories so that we might re-member hearts and bodies broken and in pain. By re-membering, we slowly and with much care, putting them back together.

So when the pain of loss, or loneliness, or boredom, or of too much togetherness overwhelms you don’t be afraid to tell your story. Now as always we called to be a community where joys are increased and cares are divided. We journey together knowing Jesus walks beside us, even as we appeal to him to stay, to tarry, to linger, to abide with us.